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 Posted: Mon Dec 03, 2007 2:37 am
Share your songs, poems and stories here if you feel like it. You don't have to be a bard to post. Please tell us if it's a song/poem/story more Sentinels might know about and if you'd be ok with others using it.
My general policy:
Annchen - feel free to use, abuse and change my offerings.
Birch - he would be thrilled to hear someone else sing one of his songs, but you would probably have to hear him boast about it for weeks...
Name | Bard name | page
Songs
Oh, Imper/Oh, Medic... etc. | Commonly known | Page 1
The Ballad of the Thunderbird | Commonly known | Page 1
The egg song | Commonly known | Page 1
A fledgling in a tree | Birch, new lyrics to well known song | Page 1
Lament for Noctus | Whisperwind (the longest night) | Page 1
Above Song | Commonly known | Page 1
Brigadier’s Daughter | Commonly known | Page 1
The bard song | Fjord | Page 1
Poems and proverbs
Birch’s egg poem | Birch (the meeting place) | Page 1
The way, proverbs of Noctua | Commonly known | Page 1
Riddles
Fjord’s riddles | Commonly known | Page 1
Stories
The Tale of Pip Squeekins | Commonly known | Page 1
The hunter and the gatherer | Commonly known by bards | Page 1
Fatewynd and the Thunderbird | Commonly known | Page 1
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Posted: Mon Dec 03, 2007 2:42 am
Name or names:"Oh Medic...", "Oh, Imper", "Old song about love", "The lover's song", "My mate is missing"...
Bard: Unknown, most bards would know this song.
History: Birch's Mother used to sing this song to him, but a lot of Sentinels have probably heard it or some variation. This is how Birch learned it, but there's other ways to sing it, and also longer versions.Quote: Oh Medic, cure my ailments Oh Medic, cure my heart My mate is gone, my body bruised It’s tearing me apart I can heal your bruises, Ameliorate your pain But I can’t make an ointment To make hearts whole again Oh Imper, mend my feathers Oh Imper, mend my heart I crashed when I heard the news It’s tearing me apart I can mend your feathers I’ll let you fly again But broken pieces of your heart Is nothing I can mend Oh Mystic, heal my broken mind Oh Mystic, heal my heart I’m not the same, my lover gone It’s tearing me apart I’ll help you with your sorrow I’ll guide you in the dark But nothing I can say or do Can heal your broken heart
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Posted: Mon Dec 03, 2007 2:59 am
Name: Birch doesn't always name his poems.
Bard: Birch
History: Birch heard about the white egg Sleet found. He was as curious as anyone else and couldn't resist writing a rude poem about it. He has only performed it once, here.Quote: Uuu-huu, uuu-huu You heard the news? Uuu-huu A bright white egg Uuu-huu, uuu-huu, as white as snow How did it happen, do you know? Oh, Sleet so bright, with keen eyesight He spotted something on his rounds So far away from The Deep Woods Yes far from you and far from me What did he see? What did he see? What did he see? What did he see? The world was upside down! A Mus flied by a-hunting Sentinels danced on the floor below Pinecones devoured small rodents And silent bards watched the show The brave Elite, what did he do? He laid an egg, was so confused! Huu! now you know, and now you see, how the white egg came to be.
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Posted: Mon Dec 03, 2007 7:58 am
Names: "The Ballad of the Thunderbird" Bard: Every Bard, Minder, and Teacher knows some version of this song by heart. History: This is a teaching song about the bringer of storms, and almost every Sentinel has heard some variation of it at some point in their lives. Like most folk songs, there are many alternate verses, and the lyrics and tune are variable-- this is simply the most common version currently heard. Quote: The rain that pours, The wind that blows, Comes as it comes, Goes as it goes. But whose wings beat To churn the sky? And whose eyes flash? And where, and why? Whose is the voice the hatchlings fear; To which the whole Clan bends an ear? Past the Above, Who is the one Who brings the rain and shuns the sun? I will tell you, I know his forms: The Thunderbird-- the god of storms! His beak could rend The trees apart, The sky's his home, The world his heart. And thunder roars when e'er he speaks, The whole world shakes When e'er he shrieks. And should he catch you in his cage, You'll bear the brunt Of all his rage. But when he calms, and he retreats, the sun returns. The forest heats. And in his wake, New life is found-- Both in the trees And on the ground. Without his rage No plants would grow, No Mus or mouse, No bat or crow. No Sentinels, No, not a thing-- No insect, mushroom, Fool or King. And so, my friends, When next you hear The Thunderbird, Try not to fear. Consider this, When Noctua shakes: He always brings More than he takes.
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Jaeger Erdarastrix Vice Captain
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Posted: Mon Dec 03, 2007 11:50 am
Name: The Way Bard: Any and all History: A series of saying and proverbs well known to all Sentinels, though nobody knows their exact origin. Sometimes a particularly cocky bard will come up with a new twist on one and claim "made tha'n up m'self!" proverbs Now, this is the Way of the world, as old and as true as the sky; And the one that shall keep it may prosper, but the one that shall break it will die. Wash daily from ear-tufts to tail-tip; drink deeply, but never too deep. Remember, the night is for hunting, Remember, the day is for sleep. The chick may be fed by the minder, but, fledge, when your feathers are grown, Remember a Sentinel's a hunter, go out and get food of your own. Keep peace with the Lords of the Sentinels— The Elites, and the Head of the Clan; And trouble not those who wish silence, and mock not the beasts of the land. The following verse is sometimes omitted, due to the events of the Great Clan WarWhen Clan meets with Clan in the forest, and neither will go from the trail, be still till the leaders have spoken, it may be fair words shall prevail. When you fight with one of the Clan, you must fight him alone and afar, Lest others take part in the quarrel, and the Clan be diminished by war. If you kill before midnight, be silent, and wake not the woods with your fight, Lest you frighten the prey from their places, and thus none shall have food that night. You may kill for yourselves, and your mates, and your chicks as they need, and you can; But kill not for pleasure of killing, and never kill one of your Clan! If you plunder his kill from a weaker, devour not all in thy pride; his is the right of the meanest; so leave him the head and the hide. Because of his age and his cunning, because of his grip and his claw In all that the Way leaves open, The Clan Leader's word is the Law. Now these are the Ways of the forest, and many and mighty are they; But the head and the tail, and the haunch and the wings of it all is just this: Obey!
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Posted: Tue Dec 04, 2007 11:25 am
Name: The egg song (until someone comes up with a better name at least...)
Bard: Everyone and their mother.
History: Another song sung to hatchlings and fledglings by their guardians. It teaches the young ones about the circle of life... sort of. It's also one of those never ending songs that can be sung forever and ever and ever. And ever. It should be sung very softly and there is a corresponding dance to show everything from the egg to the first time flying. It's a treat to see a talented dancer work with a talented singer to perform this. As beautiful as it can be it's also a song that's easy to learn and you'll probably find fledglings singing it too.
Quote: Once there was a mother who laid an egg And from it came a hatchling a ball of fluff And when the down fell off she would start to fledge To some day be a mother and lay an egg And from it came a hatchling a ball of fluff...
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Posted: Thu Dec 06, 2007 10:42 am
While Fjord loves to sing, he also loves to tell the young fledglings riddles.
These are a few of his favorites, though they are more or less common knowledge to the adult sentinels.
~ "A very pretty thing am I, fluttering in the pale-blue sky.
Delicate, fragile on the wing, indeed I am a pretty thing.
What am I?" - A butterfly
~ "I am a tale in fledglings’ minds.
I keep their secrets and share them inside.
I blur their thoughts into fantasies kept
Like a canvas of art or a submarine depth.
Though an illusion, it occurs every night;
I give them a fantasy, I give them a fright.
Nor good or bad, but always nigh’
It’s interesting to tell.
What am I?" - A Dream
~ "I have no eyes, no legs or ears and I help move the earth.
What am I?" A Worm
~ "What is so fragile that when you say its name you break it?" - Silence
~ "Small, gray, and furry,
I hurry and scurry
During the fall,
Gathering all
The nuts I can hold
To eat when it’s cold.
What am I?" - A Skurri
@__@ I'll add more later... I must go and take my English Final...
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Posted: Mon Jan 07, 2008 11:30 am
Name: A fledgling in a tree
Bard: Birch
History: It's an old melody and there has been endless variations of the lyrics.
This is Birch's take on it, to celebrate the time of year when fledglings hurtle like fearless projectiles through the air. He likes to change the lyrics around to match the gender of the fluffball he's currently serenading (or perhaps teasing as they hang upside down).Quote: A fledgling in a tree A fledgling in a tree Hey! Ho! Watch him go A fledgling in a tree The fledgling tries to fly The fledgling tries to fly Hey! Ho! Watch him go The fledgling tries to fly Say will he fly or fail? Say will he fly or fail? Hey! Ho! Watch him go Say will he fly or fail? Come catch him when he falls Come catch him when he falls Hey! Ho! Watch him go Come catch him when he falls The fledgling didn’t fall The fledgling didn’t fall Hey! Ho! Watch him go The fledgling didn’t fall Wherever will he land? Wherever will he land? Hey! Ho! Watch him go Wherever will he land? Let’s hope the crash is soft Let’s hope the crash is soft Hey! Ho! Watch him go Let’s hope the crash is soft He’s in another tree He’s in anohter tree Hey! Ho! Watch him go A fledgling in a tree
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Posted: Mon Jan 07, 2008 5:46 pm
Name: "Lament for Noctus"
Bard: Whisperwind
History: The festival of the Longest Night is an event of joyous occasion and celebrations over the triumph of the night and moon. However, the story that is the origin of this joyous night isn't one of a triumph at all, but rather of the separation of two twin brothers.
Whisperwind is very shy and not an official bard, she makes these songs for herself, but is too shy to share them so few know the lyrics unless they chanced upon her singing to herself when she thought she was alone.
Silence together,
No need for words.
We were together,
Two of one bird.
Driven away,
Though my heart near did break.
Your anger forever,
And I in your wake.
Maybe one day dear brother,
I'll be at your wing,
And we'll fly with our mother,
In the sky as we sing,
Silence together,
No need for words.
We are together,
Two of one bird.
Name: "Sunset Meadows"
Bard: Whisperwind
How the wind moves the seas,
resonating, leaves its mark.
Listen to the sounds it leaves,
drowning out the singing lark.
Watch the sinking sun that flees,
hastening to last embark.
Now to shadows slowly ease,
Owls stirring in the dark.
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Posted: Fri Feb 08, 2008 1:47 pm
Name: "Above Song"
Bard: Most Bards/Fledglings
History: This is a warning song sung in fun, but it has a purpose to remind those of the dangers that can be found above the treeline. 'Mudbeak' or 'Mudfeathers' is a popular name for a naughty Sentinel in fledgling songs.
"See how Mudbeak brags and preens,
That she's the wing-ed flying queen!
Better than old Brigadier, she reckons,
With his old wings he'd come in second!
Bravest Sentinel in all the land,
Braver than most can hardly stand,
Mudbeak spreads her wings to fly,
Up she goes! Up so high!
Past bush, tree, friend, and nest,
Mudbeak thinks she's quite the best!
Above she flies, above the trees,
Where there's hardly any breeze.
As they wait for her down there below,
They know their friend they'll not see though,
Poor family and friends wait for their hearts to mend,
Poor Mudbeak is never seen a-gain. "
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Posted: Mon Feb 25, 2008 7:10 am
Name: Brigadier's Daughter
Bard: Unknown and not telling!
History: This song was made in fun of the Mating Season, but the poor bard who sang it first has quite dissapeared. No one knows if the Brigadier did him in, or the bard was just smart enough to keep his beak closed after the first time. The song is well liked by male fledglings and young adults though, so it never quite died out.
"I courted the Brigadier's daughter,
As pretty as she could be,
I loved the Brigadier's daughter,
But the Brigadier did not love me.
I brought her pearls in a hollow shell,
Then the Brigadier kicked my tail,
I loved his daughter as you can see,
But the Brigadier did not love me.
Sweet things to her I'd softly speak,
But then the Brigadier'd pull my beak,
No love songs allowed to fly you see,
The Brigadier did not love me.
His daughter was fair as a summer day,
With her I'd like to fly away,
But the Brigadier would clip my wings,
The Brigadier did not love me.
So through the willows I'd softly creep,
To see the Brigadier's daughter,
I asked her heart while he was asleep,
And we flew away from her father.
I've now wed his daughter,
The Brigadier proceeds to weep,
I love her more now I've got her,
But the Brigadier does not love me."
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Posted: Mon Feb 25, 2008 10:09 am
Name: "The Tale of Pip Squeekins"
Bard: Nobody will ever admit to coming up with this dreadful thing.
History: It's a tale told to hatchlings to make them shut up. Some of them grow to love it. Others grow to loathe it and declare revenge on whoever told it to them.
Once upon a time, there was the most adorable, sweet, caring Mus boy in the whole entire forest. His name was Pip Squeekins. One cold winter's day, Pip noticed that his poor old Grannymus was looking ill. She had droopy whiskers, and her ears weren't nice and perky like his were. And worst of all, her tummy grumbled whenever she walked.
'Grannymus, what's wrong?' Pip Squeekins asked, in his most adorable small voice.
'Oh, don't you worry about me, dearie Pip. I'm just getting old, and this winter is getting to my bones," his poor old Grannymus replied. 'Here, listen.' Pip Squeekins put his ear down to his poor Grannymus's leg and listened.
"Oh my my, Grannymus!" Pip exclaimed. 'What creaky legs you have! Grannymus, what would make you feel better?' queried Pip sweetly.
'Oh, only being here with my only grandmus,' chuckled his Grannymus. 'Besides, it is cold, and you can't get me anything in this weather. What would your Mummymus thing, all warm in Mus Heaven while her only son was out in the cold?'
'Oh, poor, dear Mummy," Pip whimpered. "All alone, missing her Mummy and her darling boy. But she's happy there, right Grannymus?'
'She's very happy, dear, and I'm very happy with you.'
But Pip Squeekins still wasn't satisfied. He knew that his Grannymus dearly loved berries, and that they had none. But maybe he could find some berries outside! That night, when he was preparing dinner for his poor achy Grannymus, he decided that, in order to find some berries for her, he would sneak out while she was asleep. While mixing her favorite dried greens and root shavings, he decided to add some valerian, as he knew that this made her sleep even better and have the best dreams. 'After all,' he reasoned, 'it's all for her.'
When Grannymus was snoring softly, Pip Squeekins danced out of the burrow. The snow was silver in the moonlight, and he squeaked and skipped and frolicked. He noticed his shadow on the ground. 'Hello, Mr. Shadow!' he whispered, giggling. 'Would you like to dance?' He nodded, so Mr. Shadow would nod, too, then he began a slow skipping dance in a circle around the burrow.
But Pip Squeekins was not alone. A pretty Skurri girl scrambled down the tree nearest PIp. 'Hello!' she said. 'May I dance with you?' Pip Squeekins didn't know her, but she was oh-so-pretty, and oh-so-cute! Her whiskers twitched attractively in the moonlight, and her ears came to lovely points. Pip Squeekins felt himself becoming bashful.
'Of course! I would love to!' Giggling, he took her paws in his and they skipped around the clearing. The stars sparkled through the small gaps in the trees, and the happy pair only stopped when they were out of breath. 'My name is Pip Squeekins,' gasped an estatic Pip. 'I'm looking for berries for my dear creaky Grannymus. Do you know where any are?'
'I'm Flicker Brushbrush, and I'm sorry to say I don't know where any are,' the Skurri replied sadly. 'But maybe Mr. Snugglelumpkins has some!'
'Who is Mr. Snugglelumpkins?' asked Pip ignorantly.
'Mr. Snugglelumpkins is the kindest bunny rabbit ever!' trilled Flicker Brushbrush. 'He lives on the other side of the clearing!'
'I must find him! Will you go with me? Please?' Pip Squeekins looked up at her with his big, black button eyes.
It broke her heart to say no, but she had to. 'I'm sorry, I really am. But I must go back up and take care of my seven sisters and brothers.'
Pip understood. 'I understand. But thank you!' He set off bravely across the snow to find Mr. Snugglelumpkins. Pip waved goodbye cutely to the Skurri girl as she scampered up her tree, then set off across the great wide clearing to find some berries for his beloved, poor old Grannymus.
Just then, Pip noticed a shadow. This shadow frightened Pip! It looked like something was in the sky that might eat him! He ran from the shadow, but it followed him. Ducking and weaving, Pip tried to hide from the shadow, but it was catching up with him! His thoughts turned to Mummymus and what she had taught him about hiding from scary shadows, and he tried to find a hole to slide down on his fuzzy belly so that the shadow might not catch him. Alas, there were no holes to be found. And the shadow was getting bigger! He did not understand that the maker of the shadow was coming closer, because Mummymus never told him all of how to evade spooooooky shadows, but he felt claws on his back! Terrified, he ran faster and faster and bumped his poor nose on a tree! This was the end! Poor Pip Squeekins was a goner! As Pip Squeekins cowered adorably against a tree, ready to accept his fate, his last thoughts were of poor Grannymus. Would she ever get her berries?
But then, he heard laughing. 'Fooled you!' He looked up from his paws. A fat, ugly Parus the color of Lepus droppings was sitting on the snow, laughing at him.
'What did you do that for?' asked Pip. 'I don't think it was very nice.'
'But it was funny!' snickered the Parus. 'Why should I be nice?'
'I don't think your Grannyparus would like you being mean,' warned Pip as nicely as he could.
The meanie Parus got all sad at that. 'You're right! I'm sorry!' he chirped. 'I must go home to her and tell her how much I love her!' With that, he flew away, leaving poor Pip Squeekins tired, sore, and very, very lost.
But Pip Squeekins staggered around, cute as ever, holding his poor, sore, bruised nose. But what was that up ahead? Why, it was the burrow of a family of bunny rabbits! Pip Squeekins, fur clinging adorably to his narrow frame, dragged himself by his adorable paws to the edge of it and thumped feebly, making a small, cute sound. This small, cute sound was enough to bring the biggest bunny rabbit, Mr. Snugglelumpkins himself, hopping straight to the edge of the burrow.
'Why, it's Pip Squeekins!' he declared, for everybody in the forest knew and loved Pip Squeekins. Mr. Snugglelumpkins was concerned for Pip Squeekins. How could such an adorable Mus be so far away from his friends and family? They must be so worried! He cradled the fuzzy Pip Squeekins in his furry paws and carried him inside his den where Mrs. Snugglelumpkins and their nineteen adorable baby bunnies had a nice meal of carrots and grass waiting for him. He ate and chatted, and ate some more, and what did the bunnies have for dessert? Why, berries!
Pip Squeekins suddenly remembered why he was there! 'Please, sir,' he said. 'I want some more.'
'So many berries for such a little Mus!' rumbled Mr. Snugglelumpkins. 'What can you be doing with them?'
'I want to take them to my poor, sick, tired, sweet Grannymus, who loves berries!' Pip piped.
'Oh, how wonderful!' cooed Mrs. Snugglelumpkins, nodding to her nineteen children. 'Hooray for Pip Squeekins! shouted the bunny children, who jumped on him in a furry cornucopia of love. Mr. and Mrs. Snugglelumpkins applauded, and Mr. Snugglelumpkins said that he would take all his berries back to Pip Squeekins burrow right away!
Pip Squeekins got back just in time for Grannymus to wake up, and they shared the berries happily throughout the winter. The end.
Thank Noctus.
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Posted: Sun Mar 02, 2008 12:07 pm
Name: The hunter and the gatherer
Bard: It has been attributed to a bard named Peatbog, who according to bard lore lived very, very long ago. Before the war even. In reality no one knows if he really existed or if the collection of short stories known as Peatbog's tales were told by many different bards and then just credited to Peatbog.
History: This is a very old tale, and no one is sure when or if it happened. It can be used as a lesson, a tale of caution or just as a bit of entertainment. There are other versions when the feud ends in even more bloodshed and also different versions where bards have decided to embellish the tale as they saw fit.
Once upon a time and long time ago a gatherer and a hunter lived in these woods. Their territories were almost overlapping but they did not disturb each other as the hunter hunted and the gatherer gathered. They lived in peace and sometimes crossed the territory borders to hunt or gather on the other side.
The gatherer was good at what he was doing and brought home enough to feed himself, his brooding mate and their two young hatchlings.
It was a honest mistake, that is how the story goes. The oldest chick fell from the nest while fledging but wasn’t harmed by the fall. The hunter heard the rustling in the bushes and, mistaking the chick for prey, readied himself for the strike. The fledgling was killed instantly.
As the gatherer went out to search for his missing chick he found the other standing over his lifeless child. The hunter tried to explain but the gatherer struck out in anger, taking the other’s eye. As he returned to his nest he started to realise what he had done, and he sleeked his feathers back in fear. What if the hunter would come after him or his family in revenge?
The gatherer brought a fat Skurri and some dried fruit to the hunter’s territory to beg his forgiveness. But the injured Sentinel did not accept the peace offerings.
"Take your Skurri and your sweet words", the hunter hissed, "we have both wronged each other, that much is true, but there can never be peace between us. Whenever we meet I will remember my lost eye, and you will think of the death of your chick."
You can forgive those that do you wrong, but it is difficult to forget their acts when in their presence.
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Posted: Wed Mar 12, 2008 6:05 pm
Name: The Bard Song
Bard: Fjord
History: Fjord decided to give the young ones of Noctua a bit of a history lesson, so he put together a song praising the Brigadier over the triumph of the Specters.
Now you all know
The bards and their songs
When hours have gone by
I'll close my eyes
In a world far away
We may meet again
But now hear my song
About the dawn of the night
Let's sing the bards' song
Tomorrow will take us away
Far from home
No one will ever know our names
But the bards' songs will remain
Tomorrow will take it away
The fear of today
It will be gone
Due to our magic songs
There's only one song
Left in my mind
Tales of a brave Sentinel
Who lived right near here
Now the bard songs are over
And it's time to leave
No one should ask you for the name
Of the one
Who tells the story
Tomorrow will take us away
Far from home
No one will ever know our names
But the bards' songs will remain
Tomorrow all will be known
And you're not alone
So don't be afraid
In the light and cold
'Cause the bards' songs will remain
They all will remain
In my thoughts and in my dreams
They're always in my mind
These songs of Specters, Sentinels and Wars
And Elites
Come close your eyes
You can see them, too
Out in the distance
There's so much prey
The bounty that I've found
Is more than enough
Far to the hill we've to go
Over the mountains and plains
To the old hill
Where the old Specter sleeps
Blind in the open field’s day
So Noctus please take me away from here
And Brigadier shows the way right out
I'm alive
The dying Specter brought trouble and pain
And horror to the Forest of Noctua
Brigadier took the mighty burden
And left his babes behind
Ice and fire and forest we passed
And horror in the Forest of Specters
Danger in the dark
And in the dawn, as well
Caught in the wood
By the cruel Specter warriors
But now he’s alone
And a brave leader, aye
By the blessing of Noctus,
A strong warrior to lead...
-This is an adaptation to Blind Guardian's The Bard Song, which has two parts.-
Name or names: Until the End
Bard: Fjord
The forest was bright, the land was young
The morning sun had gone and come
Skurris run and chirops fly
The battle took into the sky
Through the generations fought
Lives of friends and fam'ly lost
Horrors far beyond our sight
Hope and peace replaced by blight
Until the end the battle raged
The ones we loved could not be saved
And to this day we won't forget
The suffering the Specters set.
-This song was given to me by Eric Stratton. Thanks bunches!-
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Posted: Wed Jun 04, 2008 12:06 pm
Name: Fatewynd and the Thunderbird
History: The tales of Fatewynd have been told for ages and there are many different stories, as well as styles for telling them. This one of Fjord's versions, which he told at the Fledgling Festival.
"Gather 'round, young ones, and listen to a tale of old. For this takes place before you were an egg, before I was an egg, before even the Brigadier himself and the terrible wars that our great grandmothers and grandfaters fought in corageously.
No, this brave tale takes place well before those times, when the sentinels were young yet the forest still old. Our clan was young and thriving, then, and prey was bountiful. Long forgotten were the fearful days when our survival was uncertain. Our clan was growing fat and happy and hatchlings were boisterous and bountiful. All was well within the Forest and Noctus was pleased with our progress!
As times were not hard, the sentinels of old egan to disregard the ways of thanking Noctus and even the wonderful life that the mighty Thunderbird bestowed upon us. Noctus was saddened greatly by this and the Thunderbird was frightfully angry. And one night...
The rains stopped coming.
No gusts of winds shook the mighty forest, nor did rain fall and grace the trees and plants with moisture. The prey were thirsty and hungry; they uprooted and began to move. They scattered to the east, to the west, and to the south. Of course, this meant no food for the sentinels. All suffered from these dramatic turns of events and keepers were expected to turn their charges over to the minders, so the hatchlings and fledglings would have plenty to eat. The keepers had only so many companions to feed to the young ones and the sentinels quickly realized that some brave feathered creature must travel from the Forest to find help; otherwise they would be forced to leave the ancient forest that we all call home.
The first to volunteer for this arduous task was none other than a large and well known wildtype with the dubbance of Fatewynd. His bravery was noted from the times he had proved his mettle to his clan by coming to its aid. All knew well of the time he had saved the fledgling from the ever cunning fox, Banethorn; when he braved the sky to defend the clan from the angry and frightening goshawk, Sharptalon; and when he helped to defend the Minder’s Enclave from a raucous murder of crows that had taken on harassing the poor minders and their charges. His clan needed help and he was not one to shirk his dept and duties to the clan.
Fatewynd was up early, just as the sun was setting behind the drying trees of Noctua and he left word only to his mate, Athorn. The direction in which he flew was unknown to all, as none witnessed his leaving of the great forest. He flew many nights and rested during the days, and none know just how far he traveled.
After his many, many nights of flight and little to eat, he came upon a stunning, yet worrisome sight. A great clearing was before him and it seemed to stretch on for ages. In the center of this massive clearing was the largest tree Fatewynd had ever seen and its branches seemed to claw past the clouds and into the stars. There were no leaves to this formidable tree and it was surrounded by calm, fluffed clouds and a heat that the sentinel had never known. He had little doubt as to whose territory he had found, for it was the one who he had been searching for. He gulped loudly and turned his eyes to the right, to the left, below, and above. There seemed to be no danger, although one could never be too sure in such a situation. Once the sentinel gathered enough courage, he shot forward into the vast openness of the clearing. There was a single tree, other than the massive one in the center, and it was much smaller and served for poor shelter. It took our hero many dangerous moments to reach said smaller tree and its bare limbs offered him little protection from the elements and from predators that might happen along. Fatewynd had never before felt so small or exposed.
“O’mighty Thunderbird!” His voice rang clear and loud through the clearing and his feathers fluffed nervously. “O’mighty Thunderbird, please hear my voice! ‘Tis Fatewynd, of the Forest of Noctua! Why has our forest been forsaken?”
His golden eyes focused on the seemingly calm tree and he wanted more than anything to flee the scene and head for his territory, yet he held his position. A stab of dread filled him as the winds began to blow and the calm clouds seemed to swirl with anger. A long and sharp mighty beak sliced through those angry clouds and sounded with a deafening shriek. Fatewynd could see no more of the Thunderbird, nor did he long to.
“Oh, silly Fatewynd! You and your kind know! Forsaken! HA! It is I who has been forsaken! I and Noctus himself! You foolish sentinels mock us and laugh, but you forget whose blessing lets you live as you do! You also forget whose winds and rains provide you with the life you need to live as you do!”
At each powerful and deafening word, Fatewynd shrank before the Thunderbird and shame boiled within his depths.
“We have come to realize our wrongs! Our young are dying and we are starving! Please, O’mighty Thunderbird! Have mercy on us! We know the errors of our ways and wish to redeem ourselves!”
“Redemption? You ask for much, little Fatewynd! Hnn? Well, perhaps there are a few tasks you could complete! A few tasks to prove what my winds and rains are worth to you and your fallen clan!”
Fatewynd sat quietly and his brow was furrowed. The lives of the clan were at stake and here he was before the almighty Thunderbird. “Anything asked, O’Mighty one!”
"Remember my words and remember then well," Fjord's voice called out powerfully, "for they shall not be repeated, sentinel! To the sought, in the warmth, and four night's travel from this clearing is a river! Follow said river east until the willows embrace the ground and a den eats the water. Said den holds a stone of blood and fire. Fetch the stone. This is your first task of three. Be swift of wing, for the sake of your clan depends on my appeasement."
Before Fatewynd could respond, the beak withdrew into the swirl of clouds and a blinding flash of bright stunned the wildtype. The clearing was gone as if it had never been and he was surrounded by a thick copse of spruces.
Now Fatewynd felt for a moment like he might have imagined the entire ordeal. Perhaps he had hallucinated his meeting with the Thunderbird, yet he decided to follow the instructions that he had been given.
The travel south went slowly, as Fatewynd needed to rest. If he rushed forward into the unknown, he might not be prepared to face what challenge may be ahead of him. He was already aching from his long search for the Thunderbird, which had spanned so many nights that he had lost count.
On the fourth night of Fatewynd's journey, his surroundings appeared greatly familiar. He had seen this territory before. It belonged to none other than the notorious Banethorn.
Now Banethorn was not a creature to be taken lightly. The fox had visited Noctua on many occasions and each time he brought with him misfortune. Banethorn was a known thief and all that hit the forest floor was his, including any unfortunate companions, hatchlings, and fledglings...
Fatewynd knew this well and watched with worry as the ever sly and cunning Banethorn entered the hovel that ate the water at the river's edge. This was the home of a large, fire furred adversary and our hero would have his work cut out for him. The sentinel's feathers flattened against his body as fear meandered through his frame. He would have to outfox the most dangerous fox his clan had known. He gave a sigh of despair and lifted from his high perch to clear his head as he flew.
He drifted silently through the air and scanned the territory thoughtfully. He could not just waltz into the home of the Banethorn and expect to make it out alive, unscathed, and with the bloodstone. Besides, he would have to go into the Below. He did not want to go beneath the ground! That was the last thing our hero could possibly do!
Suddenly a quick movement caught his sharp golden eyes and he scanned the ground. The small, furry creature was an excellent source of nutrition for the tired and hungry wildtype.
He descended upon the mouse with the speed and accuracy of a skilled hunter, but before he embraced the critter with his sharp talons, he noticed something peculiar. This was no ordinary mouse, for it's drab gray fur was streaked and spotted with what looked like worn green paints. The paint was patchy due to the loss of fur over time, but it was distinctly recognizable as someone's companion. He overshot the creature, but grabbed it roughly with his Will, instead of his talons. The mus squeaked and struggled, but was no match for Fatewynd. He perched high in an elm and looked over the struggling creature. It was definitely as he suspected. A mus companion. It must of run away when the sentinels were expected to turn their companions over to the minders.
"What is your name, mus?"
"Sm-sm-small Ear... Sir." The mus responded hesitantly.
"Small Ear, then, I assume you left the Forest of Noctua?"
"Y-y-yessir..."
"You abandoned your master and our clan when it was in it's most dire hour?"
"Y-y-yessir..." The mus lowered his eyes sheepishly.
"Do you miss your master?"
"Y-y-yessir..."
"You can go home and be considered a hero, a mus above all other mus... But only if you help me with a special task." The Thunderbird never said anything about not having help and here was the perfect creature to aid him. Small Ear was small, ground dwelling, and seemingly smart enough to understand what his orders would be.
"I will tell all of the sentinels not to eat you if our plan succeeds and you will be the prize asset of your master."
"No eat?"
"Yes. I swear it on my talons. Here is the plan..." -whispers-
The next night Fatewynd perched quietly a ways away from the hovel and awaited Banethorn's exit. As the fox did so, the sentinel hooted softly, as if he were grieving. The sound was pitiful, yet odd and out of place to the fox's ear.
"Oi? D'me eyes be playin' tricks?" Banethorn approached the base of the tree and peered up at the sentinel; cackling quietly as he did so. "Fatewyn' an' so far from 'is 'ome! Whot'cher be doin' there?"
Fatewynd's feathers were tight against him and his eartufts drooped. He appeared so sad to the fox's sharp eyes. His mournful voice was the season on the skurri. "The clan has no need for me... They say I fight too much and I cannot be trusted... I've been cast out to fend for myself. I've been given a label of dishonor, which extends to my family. I am a disgrace..."
He watched the entrance to the hovel out of the corner of his eye. Small Ear had sneaked past the fox and he could see the tip of the mus's tail disappearing into the hovel.
Banethorn seemed cheerful enough as he listened to the dejected sentinel's words of woe. "Cast out 'eh? You? th' one 'n 'only Fatewyn'? Such a shame! Why don't y'come down 'ere an' tell me all what 'appened, eh?"
"I might be disgraced and forlorn, but I know well the trickery of a fox... You will not hesitate to try and eat me once I am on the forest floor..." He lowered his eyes and sighed heavily.
"Naw, naw, jest t'chat, little worthless Fatewynd."
The sentinel could see the deceit in the fox's eyes and intentions and would not make such a mistake. "My kind is to live in the trees, cunning Banethorn, not on the ground."
"Oi? So, ain' gonna, huh?" His tail swished, but his ears flattened. "Very well..." He moved to turn about and head back towards the hovel, which caused Fatewynd's eartufts to erect almost fully in alarm. Without thinking, the sentinel plummeted to the ground below and landed noisily amongst the fallen dead leaves. This caused the fox to turn around almost immediately to look at him.
"Change yer mind, eh?" He cackled quietly and took a pawstep forward. Just as he did so, Small Ear shot hastily out of the hovel. He was struggling with the stone, which was large and red. It did not want to stay in his paws and he had trouble finding a hold with his sharp incisors. The fox's ears twitched at the faint sound of the mus leaving his hovel and he turned quickly. The growl that escaped his throat was a frightening one and he lurched after the frightened mus. Carrying such an object would make it most difficult for Small Ear to escape.
Fatewynd was awkward on the ground, as all sentinels are. He had a great feeling of helplessness, but had to act fast. He stumbled forward and kicked off the ground the best he could and it took a moment for him to get into the air.
Banethorn's maw was a talontip away from the mus and was gaping wide, revealing his sharp fangs and rotting breath. As they were about to snap shut, he yelped soundly. Talons pierced his back end, just above the tail, and Fatewynd clung long enough to take with him fur and blood. He lifted off almost immediately, avoiding the fox's fangs. The mus and bloodstone were momentarily forgotten as pain stole the fox's attention. As he turned to snarl at the sentinel, the frightened mus found his paws and wrapped his maw on the rougher edge of the stone once more; pulling and tugging, he tried to find cover.
"Y'get y'feathery 'ide back down 'ere, disgrace!" The fox yowled soundly. He turned on the mus again and snarled, but worried about another swoop from the sky. Was the stone really worth another set of deep gashes? The mus could go nowhere with the fox looming over and the sentinel could not land on the forest floor. It was as though there was a stalemate.
"All's I gotter do is stay 'ere, owl! The sun'll rise and yer time'll come t'roost I'll eat y'er mus an' keep the stone. None 'er best Banethorn!"
::UNDER CONSTRUCTION::
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